Flying Free
by blackfuzzdevil
Summary: HIATUS! When a girl is suddenly pulled through worlds into a land of flying ships and air pirates, she finds herself in the middle of a desperate war between pirates and a mysterious power. Chrestomanci
1. Birthday Surprise

Well, here it is. This is my first fanfiction. Please enjoy!

**A/N: Chrestomanci will make an appearance towards the end. **I want to focus more on the changing of worlds and on my characters.** Please be patient. ;)****  
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Disclaimer: I don't own Diana Wayne Jones' works. I only adore them.

**Please R&R** I'll stop bothering to post if nobody cares. Also, **rated T for violence**. I can get carried away and make some action scenes very graphic.

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**Chapter 1**

**In Which There is a Birthday Surprise**

I hustled down the wide, barren hallways of Swanskin Boarding School. The bell signaling the start of class rang overhead. Tardiness was not acceptable at the prestigious, all-girls school. My shoes echoed eerily through the usually bustling hallway like a bad omen. When I finally reached room 205, math with Sister Catherine, I shakily gripped the door handle. Painfully, slowly, I forced the resistant handle down, hoping to sneak in quietly into the classroom with out arousing the sister's attention - with no luck. The door jerked open, almost sending me to the floor, and a very red faced Sister Catherine stood in the doorway.

Like most teachers at Swanskin, Sister Catherine was a short, plump, aging woman with an out-of-date hairstyle and bogus glasses. Her pale face was deeply freckled with blemishes and chicken-pox scars. Also, like every other teacher, Sister Catherine did not like disruptive, tardy, manner-less, single-minded individuals, which, to Sister Catherine, I was the epitome of. Nothing could save me from her wraith.

"Take your seat Miss Jenkof, and I expect to see you after class." Her tone chilled me to the marrow. She had all sorts of things planed for me after class. I repressed a shiver and straitened my slumped position, reminding Sister Catherine that I was a full four inches taller than her. I sat on the hard, plastic chair, losing my height advantage over her, and took out my notebook, opting to scribble little bunnies all over the crisp, white sheet rather than pay attention to the lecture.

After an hour and a half of cowering away from the Sister's glare and hiding my bunny drawings, which had multiplied like, well, bunnies, over the course of the period, the bell sounded. Math was over. Slowly I gathered my belongings, shoving my stuff into the standard school-issued bag and pushed my pencil unceremoniously through my messy bun, tucking it tightly into my hair.

As the other students filed out of the slim doorway, Sister Catherine turned her attention to me. I had hoped to sneak out with the mass of uniformed girls but the snap of a ruler against one of the cream color desk stop me. The ruler slapped down between the door and me. It was the only escape short of jumping out of the second story window.

"Miss Jenkof! Where are you going?" Sister Catherine's cold eyes glared up at me, and she leaned forward, bringing her pockmarked face close to me. I used my height to shadow her. "Don't give me that attitude, Miss Jenkof!" she spat the words at me, brandishing her ruler.

"I didn't say a word, Sister Cat." I mumbled the words, but the attitude she was talking about poured out, dripping off each word. The ruler came down and I jerked my hand back. I held it close to my stomach, nursing the stinging welt that pulsed where the limber wood made contact with skin.

"Call me by my full name, Jenkof." Sister Catherine circled me like an ugly buzzard waiting for its meal to breathe its last. "Let us see." She mumbled while scratching her chin. If I didn't know better, I'd say there was a thin line of stubble where she scratched. "Your skirt is to short, the top rolled I suppose, much shorter than regulation allows." To prove her point she slapped the ruler against the skirt, showing it was barely two inches too short, but successfully making me jump. "Your shirt should be tucked in," she gave the white piece of clothing a tug, almost ripping it off my shoulders, "and your socks should be rolled up." Sister Catherine slapped my naked calf with the ruler's edge, leaving a painful mark. I held back a yelp and stood my ground. "Hair's unkempt," she ripped the tie that held it up, taking chunks of my brunette locks and my pencil with it. "And those shoes."

Yes, my shoes were always a sore spot for the school's administration. They were lime green, clashing nicely with the regulation gray skirt and white top. The school's issued clogs were tacky brown leather, and I refused to wear them. So, on more than one occasion, staff members snuck into the dorm rooms, attempting to take the horrendous, shining beacon of self-expression that my shoes represented, but I kept them well hidden, snug under my pillow when I wasn't wearing them along with my favorite book on famous pirates that, if found, would be taking with the same speed my shoes would disappear with.

" I think a trip to the Headmaster's office is in order." For such a small woman, Sister Catherine had powerful arms and wasn't afraid to give me that full extent of that strength when she grabbed my arm and led me to Headmaster's office on the other side of the building. Our footsteps echoed hauntingly.

A strange clicking noise followed us, out of beat with our steps. It seemed to drift from the shadows and float across the empty halls, but maybe I was just nervous. I was tempted to ask Sister Catherine if she had heard the noise when it suddenly became increasingly louder, but I held my tongue, not willing to talk to the monstrous Sister if I could avoid it, so we walked in silence with only the erratic clacking to break it.

The Headmaster's door was truly beautiful, a polished deep mahogany with matching handles, intricate designs across both enormous fronts. I could trace that patterns with my eyes all day, but unfortunately the Headmaster was ready to see us.

Sister Catherine led me inside before taking her leave, mumbling about having tests to grade. I stared at the sleek, black backing of the Headmaster's chair and sat in the seat in front of the mahogany desk. The nameplate on the desk simply read "Headmaster".

Slowly the high back chair swiveled in an eerie, movie-like way, reveling a small woman curled in the center, legs crossed. The gray hair that decorated her head was strapped back into a tight bun, pulling her eyes wide, and the black wired glasses sat primly on the tip of her nose. She was bony, made up of all sharp angles, from her large pointed forehead to the dagger-like points on her conservative brown high heels.

"Miss Jenkof," she said my name like it was poison. "I have heard many complaints about you from various teachers, and even some students."

"They just don't like independence," I mumbled under my breath while watching the Headmaster's eyes travel down to my green shoes.

"Is that so?" I jerked back as if she had hit me. She had heard me. "Now, give me your shoes."

"No." The word passed as naturally through my lips as air. The Headmaster heaved a great, theatrical sigh and gave me a mock pout.

"Jenkof, do you understand that the only reason I haven't disposed of you yet is because your parents are large contributors to this school's funding? Now, are you going to give me your shoes?" When shook my head 'no' the Headmaster called out, "Bert, came here, I have a disobedient student for you."

A large man, tall and muscular rather than the short-and-fat body code the teachers followed, rumbled into the office. Suddenly the room didn't look quite as big and elegant. The man, Bert, held in his hand a long, wide stick with holes evenly distributed across its length, complete with the school's emblem burned into the hard wood. I sucked in a breath and whimpered, my knees becoming weak even before the beatings commenced.

The stick came down and I curled, squatting on the floor. It hit my back and I crumpled the rest of the way, kneeling on the hard wood floor as the bulging muscles in the man above me worked. The stick rained down furiously and I found myself screaming, tears streaming out of my eyes in pain. Fire spread up my back in prickling sensations as I tried to push myself to my knees again during a break in the beatings, but a booted foot stamped down my efforts, grinding into my raw back. Through the pain the Headmaster's voice somehow wormed itself into my brain as she said, "This is a warning. Remember this experience and we shall not have anymore problems."

While Bert had me pinned he reached down and ripped my shoes off, throwing them at the Headmaster's feet like an offering. Then he kicked me over, put the full force of his muscles into the stick, and began to beat my stomach and thighs, soon moving to my face as I tried desperately to cover it with my arms and crawl away. I couldn't remember when I blacked out.

I woke up to soft chatter circling my head in dizzy waves. The girls of dormitory number 57 hushed each other when I moaned loudly in pain. All of the bruises and pains that had disappeared when I lost consciousness flooded back with my senses. I opened one eye, the other being decidedly swollen shut, and looked at the ring of girls around my bed. I went to say something and found my mouth glued shut. Tentatively, I probed the inside of my lips with my tongue and tasted a crusted layer of coppery blood. When I finally could open my mouth, all that would come out was a croaking, raged breath. However, the girls surrounding my bed understood and began to explain how I had come to be in this condition, after gently lifting my head and giving me a drink of water.

Joyce, closest to my head, began to explain. "Two strange men drug you hear unconscious, but they wouldn't tell us anything. They dropped you on the bed and left, telling us not to get medical help, saying the same thing would happen to us if we did. What _did_ they do to you?" Several nods came from the crowd around me, each one forming their own version of the story already.

I tried to sit up and hands from all angles reached out to help. In no time I was leaning against the headboard of my bed trying to catch my breath. When I could, I gave them a brief version of the torturous time in the Headmaster's office. The girls, though anxious for the whole story, didn't push for more and left me to sleep. Every inch of me was in pain, but I slept deeply despite it.

I didn't get out of bed the next day, or the day after that. The weekend came and went, and finally I felt strong enough to work my aching body out of bed. That Monday I went to my classes, only to be hassled by my teachers as to why I had missed the last two days of class, though just by looking at me, all of them knew exactly what happened. They mocked me during class, telling me I was nothing without my green shoes, jeering at the brown clogs that covered my aching feet. Soon my pride was as battered as my body. The mocking went on for sometime, but I learned to ignore it like the distant pain in my back.

One evening, not long following the beating, after all the girls had eaten dinner and left to their separate dormitories, several girls gathered in dorm number 57 for a surprise. I had after dinner duties with Sister Catherine, cleaning her classroom, because I had given a wrong answer in class. Wrong answers were not permitted in Swanskin, especially from Gwenevieve Jenkof. Sister Catherine had given me several petty, long jobs, just to keep me working for several hours, but when I finally was let go I happily, albeit stiffly and sorely, went back to dorm number 57.

It must have been later than I thought; all of the dormitories lights were off and a silence was settled over the room. I shut the door quietly and shuffled a few steps into the room before the lights flicked on. I jerked back and painfully hit the door behind me as I looked at almost every girl from the first floor of the dormitories. A collective yell of "surprise" and "happy birthday" came from them as they came out of every hiding place imaginable in the cramped room. I had forgotten my own birthday.

The girls gathered around me whispering excitedly about how they had pulled off sneaking presents in and making a cake, and all the work that was needed to keep it a secret from the staff, though several of the girls named staff members who had been willing to help, mainly made up of the cooks and janitors. Then, in a flurry of school uniforms and excited girls, I was whisked away to a small table that had two wrapped boxes and a small chocolate cake complete with two candles. The girls shuffled uncomfortably and apologized for the amount of presents and cake all their trouble was worth. Joyce stood beside me and quietly said, "we wanted to get you more, since we don't have many chances to throw parties for anyone here, but it was the best we could do with the Headmaster watching our every move. Here," she held out two notebook-paper wrapped boxes out to me, "open your presents first, then make a wish."

I took the larger box hesitantly, watching Joyce for any hint as to what surprise might be hiding behind the simple wrapping. I dug my fingernails into the paper and ripped. It fell away easily, revealing the school's logo printed on a simple, brown shoebox. I opened it, not sure what to expect. I gasped as a wonderful sight met my eyes. I turned the box over, dumping my green shoes out into my hands. I slipped them on, happily kicking off the ugly clogs. They felt wonderfully pleasant on my feet.

"Thanks, everyone." I felt hot tears swell behind my eyelids, but I refused to let them fall. No one had ever given me a surprise party, not even my family, and no one had risked being suspended from school to give me a pair of old, green shoes. The second box was shoved into my hands. I tore the paper and slipped the small piece of cloth into my hand. It was thick and warm, plush and soft. I cracked a grin and slipped the wristband on. It had a skull and cross bones on it, my very own Jolly Roger pirate flag. All of the girls knew of my pirate obsession. I hugged Joyce, and, with calls of "make a wish" coming from the girls surrounding me, I turned back to the cake.

While I had my back turned, someone had lit the two candles and shut the lights off, creating an eerie, golden glow that cast dark shadows across the wall. I drew in a deep breath and stared at the small glowing flames on the candles. They looked almost like eyes, staring back at me in a yellow-red light.

_I wish I could leave this awful school, and have my own life, not one ruled by headmasters and school staff._ I repeated this line over and over, willing it with all my being. It seemed like a silly wish, but one I wanted very much. I let my breath go, sending warm air down to crush the flames on the candles. It never reached them. The little flame eyes winked at me as I let the breath go, and the dark shadows swarmed from the corners and the deep places in dormitory number 57, collecting between the two candles.

Something happened then that, if you asked any of the girls who witnessed it, you would get several very different answers. The only similarity in their stories was that the birthday cake, which they had so painstakingly made, exploded, pulling Gwenevieve Jenkof down into a pit of darkness.

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What did you think? Remember, **PLEASE R&R!** I cannot stress this enough, it means a lot to me. 

**P.S. **I updated this first page because it looked bad. I know when I'm reading fics that if the first chapter looks bad, I won't read more. Plus, I feel more professional if it looks nice and uniform! Thanks for your time, blackfuzzdevil.


	2. Time Is Given Life

**Disclaimer**: I don't own rights to any of Diana Wayne Jones' masterpieces, I just write pale comparisons.

I wanted to thank **Zfan06 **and **Telekinetic91** for reviewing. It really did help me keep writing, because I have someone pushing me along. I procrastinate a lot. I also wanted to apologize for the length it takes me to roll out chapters; I'm not a fast writer. Also, thanks to Telekinetic91 for telling me that my anonymous review thingy was blocked. I hadn't realized that had to be manually turned on. On with the show!

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**Chapter 2**

**In Which Time is Given Life**

I stared into the black, swirling vortex that warped my birthday cake, giving it strange dimples. Tendrils of darkness crawled out, writhing over the cake and the table. In the center of the vortex something was pushing out. As I watched, a hand forced its way out of the cake. The fingers clawed the air, trying to find leverage, their pale, inhuman color contrasted with the darkness that spun around them. Soon a delicately sculpted, porcelain pale arm shoved out of the pit. The arm gave way to a shoulder and the whole arm reached out, grasping at air, until it found my arm.

I was too frightened to resist, my knees weakened like that day in the Headmaster's office. A scream echoed across the churning darkness as the hand writhed. It wrapped its bone-white fingers around my left arm. I screamed louder.

My senses returned as the deathly cold fingers griped me, and I look back, struggling against the skeletal grip, trying to scrabble way from it. The twilight-like darkness had swallowed me. Joyce and the other girls were blurry, distant shadows beyond the wall of darkness that swirled around the white appendage and me.

I looked back at the arm and found part of a man's bare torso and head shoving out of the cake. Other than the tension of his muscular arms, he seemed asleep, his dark hair plastered against his boyish face. He looked innocent. Instinct muddled fear as I grabbed him just above the elbow, pulling and helping him out of the vortex. What ever had been holding him gave way, and the boy slid to the floor.

As if things hadn't been horrid enough, the boy stirred. His eyes bulged open and his body convulsed. He writhed and gasped, gripping his stomach in pain. I didn't know what to do. I knelt down beside him, searching for blood, for any indication where he was injured. There was nothing.

The hand that had forced its way out of the vortex thrashed. It shot forward, once again seizing my arm. The boy jerked up, crouching, staring me in the eyes, our noses almost touching. His crystalline-blue eyes flared as he stared into my brown ones.

"Come with me." His breath was fevered as it brushed across my face. The tension that shivered across his flesh coiled. He leapt, dragging me with him. The vortex, growing larger until it sucked the entire table into its darkness, pulled us easily into its swirling pit. I squeezed my eyes in fear and anticipation and pulled my knees close to my chest.

I had the sensation of being pulled and stretched like rubber, with a sickening chill that told me I was falling. I clung to the boy's arm, curling around it for support, and opened my eyes. It made no difference. I could barely make out the pale hand that held onto my upper arm. It looked disembodied. It was enough to make me let go.

As soon as I did the hand disappeared into the black. I screamed into the darkness, but it swallowed it the sound up, leaving nothing but a faint shadow of my desperation.

But he came back. That pale arm forced out of the darkness and wrapped around me. He pulled until I was clasped in the crook of his shoulder, pressed against his naked side. His grip on me was strong, forcing the air from my lungs in a suffocating embrace. I pressed my cheek to his boney shoulder and dug into his chest and back with my sharp nails. What I could see of his face, he didn't even flinch.

I couldn't tell, the darkness fumbling my senses, but I thought we were moving. I was hoping we were moving. It felt like we were moving faster. Being crushed against him was getting uncomfortable. I peaked up at his face, it look lighter. I gasped and looked in the direction his eyes were pointed. There was light at the end of the tunnel of darkness; the light at the end of the tunnel. Oh, snap. He killed me.

I writhed against him, trying to brake free of the iron hold, as we flew forward. It was no good. He had me lock and key. Though, I had the satisfaction of watching his face screw up in pain as I forced my knee up between his body and mine. His stomach must have still hurt. I looked back at our progress through the tunnel. We passed through the light as I did.

It was like the tunnel pushed us out. The sensation of being stretched and pulled returned, there was a hesitation, and then we were falling. The boy pulled me around to his front, wrapping his full body around me as we hurtled down. All I could see was his pale chest, and a sky-blue color. It even had clouds.

We were falling out of the sky. I gave out a blood-curdling scream. The boy let go, slapping his hands over his ears. I shut my mouth and reached out for him, but he was already slipping away. His wide, blue, so blue, eyes looked horribly surprised. The wind whipped through my hair, undoing the lose bun, and turned me so I could see the dense forest I was plummeting towards. The gust stung my face, bringing tears to my eyes. Or maybe I was crying because I was falling to my death. The wind flipped me over and over, flashing the painful landing before my eyes in a swirl of color. My heart thudded, and breath wouldn't come to my pained lungs. I fought the wind to scrunch my knees to my chest and to bring my arms up to guard my face.

I hit the trees. The smaller branches gave way, scratching any flesh that they could touch while ripping and tearing at my uniform. The sound of snapping twigs and searing pain followed me as I slammed into a large branch, the breath crushed out of me. I wrapped my body around it as I started to slide, and assessed the damage. I couldn't feel anything. It was numb.

A series of crashes followed after me into the trees and a gasp of pain echoed slightly from near by. There was a long pause, and then rustling of leaves made a sluggish path over to me where I laid spread eagle on the large branch, the rough bark biting into my stomach.

"Can you move?" The soft voice was near my head. He sounded out of breath. I couldn't breath. It hurt. My thoughts became fuzzy around the edge and I look blurrily up at the boy. Tears flooded my eyes and what little air I managed to suck in caught in my throat. A torrent of pain collided with every inch of my body. I hated delayed reactions.

The guy sighed and sat carefully on the branch, watching it for stability, beside my head. "We'll have to stay here for the night," he mumbled and curled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He looked around suspiciously and rubbed chills off his arms. Then his eyes turned to me.

I lay still on the branch, unwilling to move for fear of what pains would come if I did. But the glare he gave me was enough for me to brave the sharp pains that coursed along my nerves to escape from his chillingly blue eyes. I leaned back against the trunk of the tree and focused on my breathing. Each shallow breath chased away the dizziness that threatened my consciousness. He was still glaring.

"What?" The word had meant to be spoken with scorn, but only came out in a breathy gasp. He just sighed and moved closer. He loomed over me, though he was only crouching on the branch, and wrapped his arms around me like he was giving me a hug.

"Hold on." His hands gripped my sides and he pushed off the branch. We were falling again. I barely had time to scream before we jerked to a stop. Like a monkey, he swung us into an alcove in the large tree, hanging onto a small outcrop above the slim hole with one hand. I grasped around his neck in a panic and pain.

The earthy floor was covered with dirt and leaves and the walls were covered in decaying tree mulch. Outside the rounded opening, the sky was already turning a deep pink color.

"Sleep. While you can." He gently wedged my arms from his neck and moved away from me. I glared at him. I was suddenly furious with him. This boy ruined my birthday, pulled me through a creepy tunnel, killed me, dropped me into some strange forest, and just threw me out of a tree into a hole. I thought had a good reason to be angry with him.

My eyes drilled holes in his back as he peaked out of the small opening. "What is it?" His voice was harsh and quiet. My anger flared. I shouted the first things that came to mind.

"Why did you take me? _How_ did you take me? _Why_ are you shirtless?" I snapped my mouth shut and stared at him. His form was silhouetted in hole of the alcove as the sun slipped down the sky, half hidden behind the forested horizon. He turned towards me, his back pressed against one side of the opening. His arm stretched across the only exit, balancing so he wouldn't fall, however much I wanted him to. The other arm rested lazily on his scrunched-up knee. His dark locks slid down over his face, masking the already darkened features, but I could see the cruel curling of his lips through the dusky haze.

He slipped from his perch with feline grace, liquidly gliding down to all fours. His back arched as he leisurely crawled towards me, his fiery eyes peaking dangerously out of the curtains of black tresses. My breath caught in my throat and my muscles stiffened. His eyes held mine as I pressed my back against the earth insides of the tree, caught like a mouse at the mercy of a cat.

As he neared me his arms snaked out, placing themselves on either side of my body, trapping me. My breath came out in short gasps as he towered above my suddenly small, quaking frame. He bent his upper half over me, forcing me to slide down the wall to keep from touching him. "You are my hostage," whispered out of his lips before he licked them like a hungry animal. I couldn't think, but, faintly in the background, I could hear the ticking of a clock. He heard it too.

His head jerked up and his torso twisted, the toned abdominal muscles rippling under his skin. He slipped away with the same fluid grace used to come towards me. Cautiously he poked his head out of the alcove, silently searching for the source of the noise.

The boy thrust back from the opening and scrambled back to where I sat, anxiously watching. His hand clamped over my mouth as I opened it to ask him a question. He shook his head furiously and motioned me to be silent.

The ticking pulsated nearer. The boy stiffened, released my mouth, and wrapped his body around me, shielding me from the opening. His head pressed against my hair, and his heart pounding in my ear, and against my chest. A shiver racked his slender form. He was frightened. My heart raced. It lagged an agonizing beat before synchronizing with the pulsing rhythm his heart thrummed against my chest.

As we pressed together the darkness consumed us and the ticking crept forward, our hearts humming together. A tickling sensation shivered across my back. With the boy's hands pressed firmly against my shoulders, I couldn't comprehend what it was. The tickle worked its way from the small of my back, inching up my spine, until it came in contact with the boy's hand.

His hand jerked slightly and the tickle slid down to where my disheveled, dirt-smeared shirt had been pulled out of the grey skirt. Several thick, hairy legs tried to gain back the leverage of my shirt, scuttling up my naked flesh. My back arched, desperate to escape the creature, pressing into the boy as his hand snaked around to clamp down over my mouth, stifling the screech that threatened to call the ticking evil. His free hand slipped around my back, grabbing the creature by its hairy legs. In a swell of muscle, the boy hurled a spider the size of a small cat out of the opening that cut into the tree. I watched it disappear in the glow of the sun's setting blaze. The snapping of twigs and branches followed its wake, echoing through the abrupt silent. We sat in the muted forest, eerily empty of the sound of life, holding each other tightly, listening for the sound that made his skin crawl.

There, scuttling around under the tree's great branches, the ticking circled us. Its rhythmic beating lagged a beat, synchronizing with the steady pounding in my ear, against my chest. The sound of ripping bark followed the creature's path up the tree. The boy released a stunted breath. His hand nervously, gently ran through my hair. I peeked over the boy's pale shoulder. His grip tightened but I could see it. I could see the creature.

It hardly seemed something to be afraid of. The creature looked like a cymbal monkey, albeit without the cymbals. The monkey, assuming it was a monkey, had a long face, bright yellow eyes, and large, protruding lips. Those lips stretched back, tight against the rows of pointed canines the filled its mouth. It raised one human-like hand to pick at one of the teeth, using the elongated, barbed nail like a toothpick. Below the shoulders, where a stomach might have been, sat an antique clock, its pendulum chiming in rhythm with the ticking noise that echoed in the tree.

Its yellow eyes glittered as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. They roamed up the boy's back before meeting my stare. It grinned maliciously, sharp teeth clicking, and let out a shrieking cry that sounded like several alarms chiming at once. Our hands flew to our ears, trying to block out the blaring noise, to no avail. The boy shuffled around to look at the creature as it beat out eardrums to pulp.

It raised its clawed hands in tight fists and thrashed them through the air in aggravated swipes. Its small, slit-like noise flared, taking in the sent of the two beings in front of it. I screamed at it, a shrill cry of fear and anger. The noise stopped. The hoarse end of my scream echoed through the small space as the creature stared at me. It whined, the rounded ears plastering back against its skull. It beat the clawed fists on the ground before growling and slinking back to the opening. It looked back once, glaring as it's mechanical stomach ticked in tune with our hearts, then slithered out the opening.

The boy heaved a sigh, sliding down the side of the tree with fatigue. He sat for a moment, eyes closed, taking deep breaths before sinking to the ground, head resting on his arms. His knees curled to his chest, and he spoke one word, "sleep." Exhausted, my heart gently easing its' traumatic flight, I collapsed into a heap beside him. Seeking comfort from the darkness that overwhelmed the forested view, I scarcely pressed my back against the nakedness of his back. He responded by relaxing against me, the full weight of his lithe, muscled body a solid brace.

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**Hey everyone! **Thanks for coming back for more. Please, I had some trouble with this one, because I was unsure as to weather or not to put in the monkey creature in yet, and it almost seems stupid. It will be explained later, about why it left and all, but I'm still unhappy with it. Also, do you think the relationship between the boy and Gwen is hokey? Thanks for the feedback. **PLEASE REVIEW!**  



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